Like the Orchids
by Blackrose Kitsune
Summary: Nothing blooms in the winter... Or so Kurama believes. But Hiei knows otherwise. In fact, Orchids bloom in the winter. And... something else may bloom too... [KuramaxHiei fluff rated due to narrowminded people. Happy Christmas XD]


**_Like the Orchid_**

---

Overexposure to the frigid winter air of late evening had left him flushed by the time he pushed his way stiffly into his house; his breath automatically became a hot cloud of steam as he exhaled. Rubbing his hands together fiercely to coax some warmth back into his frozen, and blatantly ungloved hands, he managed to shut the door quickly behind him with the reproachful whistle of cold air wailing mournfully behind him until it shut itself with a resounding 'clack' of the lock.

He stalked to the couch and sank stiffly into the plush cushions, each of his joints protesting in quiet agony as he shifted. He sat in discomfort for a few minutes as his blood thawed and circulation returned to his limbs. Having come from a walk spanning a good portion of some three hours in less than sub arctic temperatures, it did not surprise him that his blood had all but turned to ice, flowing through his veins in the form of sharp daggers, incessantly torturing him with each motion he made.

But in his mind, the agony of cold-endured was more than justified. As numb as his thoughts had become in the past days, it made sense that physically he should suffer to offer some sort of balance for his lack of mental presence.

In truth, it had been an arduous walk…

_The long stretch of forest that surrounded and protected Genkai's compound from the polluted bustle of the city had been thrown into disarray. Or, so it seemed to his eyes, at least:_

_With the arrival of a late snow storm, the whole land had been covered in an opalescent blanket of downy powder. It hadn't been the frozen, hard-packed snow that fell regularly in the region during the winter. It had been powdery, fine. The damp snow that was more sleet than snow. It had fallen steadily in the days before, showering the land in a damp, slick, glistening mess._

_Until the temperatures dropped._

_In an infernal flash freeze spanning one single night, the thin downy layer of snow that had blanketed all of the land had solidified. The wispy snow that veiled everything froze, encasing the ground in a thin layer of translucent ice and clung to every starkly-bare branch in a thick catalyst._

_The landscape was beautiful, in a serene winter sort of way. The air was calm, heavy with the chill of winter, frozen in its own respect. The ground was frozen, late grass tufts standing erect, like tiny icicles as lone sentinels upon the worm, flattened earth. The trees were a sight in themselves, their empty branches glittering dutifully in the wind as the sun poured cold winter sunlight upon them._

_Everything was beautiful — in only a way the elegance of winter can be._

_Except, for all the beauty of the frozen land, it does not come weightlessly upon the earth. During the night of the freeze, when all the trees turned into shimmering icicles, the extra weight laid upon the dormant branches caused several of the branches to give way, snapping. In more severe cases, large boughs fell completely, leaving deep scars and painful, splintered gouges in the trees._

_This was how the world had seemed to him today, as he made the walk from Genkai's compound back to his own house._

_Fallen trees, broken, destructed._

_Dead._

It was a natural occurrence for him to become ill-tempered and depressed with the onset of autumn well through the winter months. In fact, most years he was not himself again until the very beginnings of spring. He supposed this came from his bond to the plants. When they lost their leaves, he lost his jovial spirit until they regained their own vitality. His shared wavelength, his ties to them, whatever it was that bound him to them, caused his mood to darken as they fell prey to the cruel winter. He knew this and had accepted it.

But, although largely tied to the state of the plants he so adored, there was more contributing to his foul mood. A feeling that gnawed insufferably at his conscience every time the winter came around, dawning its unpromising bare head. He knew well what it intoned, and shoved it off as merely coming from his plants' being, despite the knowledge. It made sense to blame it on those to which his soul was most adversely tied.

After all, his plants were dead…

…And nothing _bloomed_ in the winter.

He sighed tiredly, the breath coming from his throat shakily, in worn resignation. Flexing his fingers, to ease his frozen joints back into grudging motion, he raked them through his hair. In his state, he became suddenly aware of just how long the scarlet locks had become in recent years, as he crouched forward, head in his hand, elbows resting on his thighs. The tresses cascaded over his shoulders in tangled knots, hanging limp and frozen before his eyes.

_So beautiful… like blood blossoming across fresh snow…_

He let out a low sound in his throat and closed his eyes, shutting out the red streams that flowed before them, and the morbid thoughts that ensnared his mind at the sight.

_What has gotten into me? _He mused aggrievedly, surprised by his own melancholy. _What a day for such thoughts... _He laughed dryly, his breath making the locks hanging before him dance softly.

"What a day this has turned out to be…" he muttered, finally voicing his thoughts with a disproving crack in his voice as he mouthed the words.

He shook his head, hands inching up to his temples where his fingers began rhythmically massaging in small circles. The muscles rippled under his fingers in resistance, tightening in a quick spasm that elicited another winded sigh from his chapped lips.

"So tense…" he mumbled. "It is no wonder I am in such a foul mood," he grumped, settling tiredly back against the couch, the cushions enveloping his rigid form in their plushy embrace. He settled in and leaned his head back, hands clenching in the soft material of his cream-colored slacks.

_It is more than tension… more than the weather or the plants and you know it…_

A thick knot rose in the back of his throat, joining the gnawing in his stomach as though to argue his conclusion.

_You know the reason…_

He turned stiffly, ignoring the recurring thought that bothered him like a stubborn nightmare and bit his lip, feeling flesh tear and blood bubble from the new laceration as the trademark metallic taste enveloped his senses.

Uneasily, he fell asleep.

---

"Fox…?" His tone was mild; quiet as he watched his companion before him intently for any signs of recognition. But his only response came in the form of soft, undisturbed breath-sounds and the steady rising and falling of the youth's emerald sweater-clad chest.

"Kurama?"

When he still hadn't enticed a reaction from the dozing red-head, he stepped closer. Standing before the boy, he reached out a reluctant hand, fighting the growing urge he felt to just reach out and touch the Fox. Feel his smooth flesh under his fingertips; revel in the warmth of that flesh. He stopped short, noticing the fluttering of eyelids heavy with sleep. He promptly pulled back his hand, shoving it forcefully into a pocket, but before he had time to step back and widen the gap between them, Kurama's eyes drifted lazily open.

"Hi-ei…?" asked the drowsy red-head through a thick yawn, which he stifled partially successfully with the back of his hand. "What do you want with me," he asked bluntly, regaining his conscious composure shortly and straightening himself on the couch.

Either Kurama hadn't noticed that fact that he was standing almost inexcusably close to him, or he paid no mind. Either way suited him fine, as it meant less irritating questions for him to answer.

"Hn," came the monosyllabic reply as Hiei crossed his arms before him waspishly.

"Really now, Hiei," Kurama replied, eyeing his companion through narrowed eyes, his voice dully venomous, in a would-be-threatening tone, if not for the fact that it betrayed not even the slightest emotion. "I am _not_ in the mood." He finished dully, looking pointedly away.

"You'd best _get_ in the mood, Kurama," he snapped in reply, fire dancing in his eyes. "I am _not_ your keeper, Fox. Much as the Detective and the Oaf like to think so," he spat bitterly.

At this last bit of news, Kurama looked up, tiredly watching the hiyoukai before him for any sort of reaction as he voiced his own thought:

"So, you've only come by order of the others?"

His tone, his countenance, indeed everything about him, was neutral; of the same serene and deadly calm that he had been revered for as the Youko thief. Yet, something about it made Hiei bristle nonetheless, the hair along the back of his neck prickling unpleasantly, almost in foreboding.

"Fox—" He stopped himself, somehow feeling the neutral approach was inappropriate to the time and situation. "—Kurama…" He finally settled on the best fitting words. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Nothing." Kurama replied quietly, a hint of curiosity shining in the depths of his emerald eyes, shining through the cloud of disarray and ill-will that had settled over them. "What makes you think otherwise, Hiei?"

At the simplicity of the question, Hiei almost lost his composure and had to struggle to keep from lashing out at his ignorant companion despite the idiocy he spewed.

_What makes me think that? What?!_

"Don't be _cute_, Kurama," he spat angrily, his hands clenching into fists before him, and burrowing into a tighter hold before him. "Why would I think it," he repeated mutinously. "If even the Detective — _if even the Oaf_ — has noticed something wrong with you, something must be wrong. What is it?"

Kurama shook his head mildly, a small smile curling at the corner of his lips. "Nothing, Hiei. I'm just… melancholic lately… because of the winter, you know. The plants dying and everything."

Hiei watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he would further explain himself. Because at the words, at the tone, he sensed there was more to it. There was a deeper meaning, a hidden something to the words that the Fox obviously was keeping from him. He wanted to know what.

"What else, Fox? There's more to it than that," he hedged tactlessly, broaching the topic.

"I suppose there is, Hiei…" he laughed wryly, gracing the raven with a small, tortured smile, his eyes glinting in a subdued choleric light. "It's just," he paused, contemplating the words. "Well, I suppose you could say that… _nothing blooms in the winter._"

That look…. The look Kurama was giving him… It sent a wave of heat washing over him, warming his body and face. Those eyes, the very ones that often had looked so deeply into his very soul and had seen past the very lies he had erected around himself… They looked at him now with such a deep sorrow, such a palpable longing, that it brought a thick rush of emotion rushing to the back of his throat. And… that voice. The voice he knew almost as well as, if not better than, his own… That deep, sweet tenor that sent his heart racing with the merest of spoken syllables… The words spoken fell so softly, so agonizingly from his lips that it shot a jolt of pain through his very soul to hear them.

If only there was something he could do to help the Fox. If there was something, _any_thing that could bring peace to his friend… But, what?

He looked doggedly away, diverting his eyes and aiming them towards the door. Kurama was watching him; he could feel those savagely wounded eyes following him, taking him in. It made him shudder.

"Hn."

And then, he was gone.

---

He felt guilty at having driven away Hiei. Honestly, he did. But in his waking moments, the words Hiei had said to him were truly the last he had wanted to hear.

_"I am not your keeper, Fox. Much as the Detective and the Oaf like to think so."_

Perhaps he hadn't intended for them to come out as they had, or maybe he hadn't intended for him to take the words as he had, but they cut deep. It was all he could do to see Hiei coolly and silently off. He could not let Hiei see him as even more torn up than he already was.

And, he knew Hiei was right. His foul mood, while greatly helped along by the fact that the nature he lived to protect was dying around him, also stemmed from a more… personal… problem.

Oh, but, nothing bloomed during the winter, and he'd long resigned himself to the fact. So… why did Hiei's appearance bother him as it had? On a regular occasion he'd have been more than happy to receive the little hiyoukai, on friendly terms or not. But, part of him had actually wanted to push Hiei away. He couldn't deny the fact. But… why?

_Why? Yes, well, that is the eternal question, now isn't it? And I've still no answer…_

His cynical musings over his previous actions concerning the insufferable little hiyoukai he knew as Hiei were cut abruptly short by the said demon calling his name. He paused a moment, contemplating the nature of the second visitation, before hoisting himself begrudgingly from the couch.

It had been a few hours since he had all but pushed Hiei out of the house. And, he knew that the hiyoukai particularly enjoyed holding grudges. So it came as a surprise to him that Hiei should be back. All but a few hours later, no less, to make amends. Well, that, or do whatever it is he intended to do, at any rate. He felt more than deserving of his friend's wrath, at any rate, for having behaved as he had earlier. So, to stop forestalling the inevitable, he made his way to the door, releasing the lock and swinging it open to emit a forever irritable-looking Hiei.

He wondered briefly why he had waited to be let in this time when earlier he had simply barged in unannounced of his own means. But, he decided not to call Hiei on it, and led him into the living room, in a ritual that was all-too-familiar.

As he resettled himself on the couch, Hiei took up a position beside to him. Almost unreasonably close to him. For a moment neither spoke. Finally, Kurama turned to face him, his voice all business:

"Hiei, about earlier — I'm sorry." The word slipped awkwardly from his lips, for even as a human, he found it difficult to apologize, much less for something he was not even sure he had done wrong.

Hiei shook his head, ebony tresses of hair spraying wildly across his forehead as he did. "Kurama, don't." The tone was demanding; he knew the words were as insincere as they had come out sounding. Not surprisingly.

"Hiei—"

"Kurama — _shut up_." His own words came out sounding just as awkward. He was foreign to ningen rhetoric, and the phrase sounded ill-conceived to him, but it was time appropriate, he supposed, going by what the Detective had told him about the nature of the phrase.

Stunned, and regarding him with slightly widened eyes, the red-head did as he was ordered.

"Look…" Hiei stopped, suddenly unsure of himself. "You're a fool, Kitsune." His voice trailed off and he glanced anxiously over at his companion, focusing on an invisible point about his shoulder.

"Hiei," Kurama's voice was soft. Gentle. He could sense something was troubling the hiyoukai. Well, discreteness had always been one of his weak points, he mused bitterly, a snide smile curling briefly at his lip at the thought.

"What's wrong, Hiei?"

"Hn." Hiei laughed; a loud, echoing laugh the hung between them for a painful moment. Just like Kurama always to twist things. "I should be asking _you_ that, Kitsune."

"I thought I _told_ you, Hiei," he retorted sharply, suddenly regretting having let the little demon back into his house.

"You did," he conceded nodding. "And you're a damned fool because of it." He reached numbly into his cloak, dropping his eyes to the carpet.

"What do you mean?"

"_Nothing blooms in the winter_." He shook his head, another derisive laugh following the words. "I thought you knew plants better than that, Kurama…"

The red-head looked at him through puzzled eyes, his expression one of affronted curiosity. "Do tell, hm?"

A grim smile flitted upon his features as he drew from his cloak, with a very shaky hand, a small potted Orchid. He held it hesitatingly, and with smug satisfaction, before his friend. "Orchids _do_ bloom in the winter, Kitsune."

With careful hands Kurama took the plant from the gleeful demon beside him, a small, amused, but inexorably torn, smile curving his lips. He briefly lifted the Orchid to his face, taking in the deep, pungent, and all at once overwhelming aroma. The petals, a fine, velveteen amethyst curled around him slightly as he breathed. Then, he set the plant down, sadly admiring the long, slender petals, the full color, the mismatched pattern of white spots radiating around the central pistil and delicate stamen clustered around it, making for a masterfully colorful display. He placed the pot gently on the table and turned a sad smile upon his companion.

"Yes, Hiei… You are right. Certain _things_ do bloom during the winter… I thank you for bringing me the Orchid…" His voice faltered, catching in the back of his throat as he struggled to speak around the knot that had clogged his airway.

"Kurama?" His voice was a broken whisper, barely visible. His eyes were trained steadily on the tabletop, regarding the Orchid quietly.

"Hm?" There was no need for words. Suddenly, it felt as though a silent understanding had fallen between them. There was nothing to be said.

"There was more to your _analogy_, wasn't there?" He looked up, his eyes suddenly searching, fire burning deep within him as his eyes found and probed his counterpart's own viridian orbs.

"Hiei… I" He looked away, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat increase. How had he seen through the analogy? What could he possibly mean now? He couldn't find the words to voice the thoughts.

"Kurama," Hiei's voice was thick and his hand trembled slightly as he reached forward, touching the red-head's cheek softly. He felt the flesh, warm and flushed, tense under his fingertips as he hesitantly guided the Fox around to face him.

Kurama let his head be redirected, so that he was facing his companion, but he kept his eyes and disposition turned pointedly away.

"…It's okay, you know…" Hiei mumbled reluctantly, his hand moving slowly upwards, along the Fox's slender jaw line.

He traced his fingers slowly up the gentle curve of the jawbone, traced his earlobe beneath the dangling crimson locks that cascaded around his face, and elicited a shiver from his companion's suddenly catatonic figure, except for his hitched, unsteady breathing.

In spite of himself, he let out a low chuckle. And, growing emboldened, retraced his path along the jawbone, cupping his hand around the cheek, and feeling the cleft where Kurama's angular cheek bone protruded. Guiding Kurama forward slowly, his hand trembling again, he let out a last reassuring whisper:

"Kurama… it's okay…"

Slowly, he moved himself forward, his lips finding Kurama's in a slow motion, his eyes fluttering reflexively shut at the feel of the warm, slightly moist flesh upon his lips. In a moment, though it felt like a seeming eternity to him, he felt Kurama's lips move beneath him, reciprocating the action, and a warm explosion erupted in the pit of his stomach. He deepened the kiss slightly, his body quivering and he felt Kurama move against him, his strong arms holding him in place, wrapping around him and keeping him grounded. Then, all-too-soon, he thought, he pulled away, his breathing an uneven shiver.

Kurama still had his arms around him, holding onto him almost protectively, and the warmth of his body was just so welcoming. He buried his head into the red-head's neck, taking in the scent of Roses and Lavender that clung incessantly to him throughout the year. He nuzzled the warm flesh shyly, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling; Kurama only tightened his hold on him. It was then that he realized the Fox was shaking. Not so much trembling to the point were it was visible, he supposed, but there was a sort of uneasy quiver running across his body. Much like the trembling of a frightened child.

"Kurama?" he asked quietly, looking worriedly into the Fox's eyes, though they were closed and veiled by a sheet of crimson.

At the sound of his name, Kurama opened his eyes, a smile in them and in his voice as he spoke, though his tone was unsteady and wavered. "Thank you, Hiei…" He closed his eyes and pulled the hiyoukai closer to him.

Hiei smiled wryly, almost embarrassedly, and cast a thankful glance toward the Orchid standing as a lone sentry on the coffee table.

"See, Kurama? Some things _do_ bloom in the winter."

---

* * *

**_Standard Disclaimer: _**I do not own any aspect (plot, character, or otherwise) of Yu Yu Hakusho. Sole rights go to Yoshihiro Togashi, FUNimation, Shonen Jump and all other third parties with a claim to the title. These third parties to not include me. Nor will they ever, unless a shady game of poker is conducted in Atlantic City and the Title to YYH somehow winds up as ante.

**_Author's Ramblings:_** I know I've been gone for a pretty decent amount of time, and I apologize. But, life kind of got in the way of my writing. Believe me, the muse is none to happy about it, but what can ya do? Anyway, in compensation (though I know that half of you are probably wondering why a pitiful excuse of an auther like me is even still around) I have written... this. Obviously. It definitely isn't the greatest, but I am somewhat proud. It's the first bit of fluff with a mild case of angst on the side that I've written in basically forever, and I know there are a few of you out there who like my work, so rejoice. I live. Anyway, I'm happy with how it turned out. Particularly happy with how I got the Orchid/flower reference to fit. Better than I expected. Go me! As always, I'm sort of worried about how in-character I managed to keep them, or how terribly OOC I turned them, but that's just me. And, it will always be me. So, assuage my fears, ne?

As always, please leave your name at the door, all honesty opinions intact. The muse adores them, because the distract her from mauling me for ignoring her, and I appreciate them too, because they boost my nonexistent writer's ego. So, oblige a girl, ne?

Blackrose


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